Last February, I finished Edith Wharton's Ethan Frome
; shortly after that, I read Willa Cather's My Antonia
. In my mind there's an unrelenting association between the two that I never really thought about until now.
Long story short: I loved each novel. So much so (even with the depressive nature of Wharton's Frome), I didn't want the book to end. Oh, how I loved them. However, I didn't necessarily enjoy either for the storyline (although, My Antonia
was both sad and inspiring), I really could dig the feelings that resonated with my person after the stories had ended. 
Perhaps my association lies in the fact that both writers' have this incredible way with imagery that literally places you within the walls of the story. Or because they were female figures writing in an era when this art form was still predominately produced by men. I could feel the chill of the space that surrounded Frome's small kitchen table, the frigid wind whipping through and knotting my hair as I rode a sled barreling down a hillside. Furthermore, I witnessed golden fields of wheat, the brilliance of the changing seasons in the great Midwest, and the sacrifice and reward in cultivating foreign land.
After reviewing must-read lists and "greatest pieces of literature in the entire universe" lists, I realized I had to read more from each of these authors.
I'm no doubt kicking myself for not buying that fabric covered, vintage-looking O Pioneers!
that I saw at the used book store not too long ago.Enjoy Wharton or Cather? What titles do you suggest I tackle next?
Which authors left you in awe and have other works that you haven't read?
